Even The Bad Guys Hire Contractors
by McHammer
Summary: An American construction contractor is hired for a well paying job in rural Spain. This was not his first overseas job. This was, however, his first overseas job for an ancient conspiracy, his second such job if you include Disneyland Paris.


Osmund Saddler, Ramon Salazar, and Bitores Mendez sat around the large dinning room table. The three men were all 'controllers' of Las Plagas, a parasitic organism that had overrun a small village in Spain, as well at the surrounding area. Saddler was the head of the cult that was responsible for the outbreak, and Salazar and Mendez served as his lieutenants, all able to control the powerful and loyal killing machines they had made from the innocent townspeople.

Also, Trevor was there.

Trevor was an American construction contractor, and had hired barely a month ago to help Saddler and his men prepare for upcoming trouble. Trevor had received the information of the work to be done (a whopping twenty-three page report, single spaced, double sided), and had asked to speak with the bosses about their requests. Apparently, Trevor had a few questions regarding the improvements and construction.

"Ah, Trevor," Saddler said, in a voice Trevor would describe as 'creepy-ass', as Trevor entered the room. "May we offer you a glass of wine?"

"No, I'm good," Trevor said, somewhat unnerved with the whole giant castle and zombie servants and huge bald man sitting across from him. "I'm more of a Moosehead guy, actually. Canadian beer. I tell ya, Canadians aren't much when it comes to a war, but they sure know how to make a beer. Am I right?"

Saddler, Salazar, and Mendez stared silently at Trevor.

"Okay, moving on. I had a couple of questions about some of the things me and my boys are going to put in for you. First issue, in one of your castles, you wanted a 'spiked death trap ceiling', right?"

Salazar nodded his head.

"Alright, we can totally put that in for you, but there's one thing I got to tell you it before we go ahead and install it. Well, we kind of need to have sensors on the ceiling, you know, so it knows when to stop descending. After your enemies are totally dead, of course. I'd say about four sensors should do it."

Salazar spoke. "How noticeable are these sensors?"

"You'll barely know they're there, moving on," Trevor said quickly, skirting the issue. He flipped through the papers in front of him. "Uh, says here you want us to set us twenty-odd blue torches scattered at specific locations across the island. Uh, why exactly?"

Mendez shifted forward in his chair, starling Trevor. "They are for a merchant we have under our employment. The torches are to mark his position for potential customers."

"Alright, just throwing this out here, uh, what customers? I mean, you kind of assimilated everyone in the entire surrounding area. The only customers he'd have are people trying to overthrow you. You know what, never mind. Related issue, just how loyal is this merchant of yours? I ask because this torches are kind of expensive, you know, burning blue and shit."

"He is loyal," Mendez replied. "We trust him completely."

Trevor suddenly noticed the vague similarities between Chief Mendez and Grigori Rasputin, and it took every ounce of strength in his body to resist whistling the Boney M disco hit.

"Alright, so I guess we'll go ahead with the torches." Trevor skimmed through some more of the construction details. "Let's see, another thing here. Um, we were doing some work on an elevator in one of your basements somewhere, and my guys stumbled across a couple of tanks of liquid nitrogen. They wanted to know whether or not to move the tanks or not, because it didn't really look like they had any reason what so ever for being down there."

"Leave them," Salazar said. "I can see no reason that their presence can be any trouble. Now, did you finish your work on the elevator?"

"Oh, yeah," Trevor mumbled. "They're faster than ever. Uh, let's see, um, about one of your death pits. One of the one's in the castle, I think. There's sort of a lot of things to grab onto for a spiked death pit. Might screw with the whole 'death' thing if buddy can stop his fall. You know what, don't worry about it. I'm sure it'll be fine."

The trio of leaders continued to stare at Trevor, who nervously flipped through more pages of the construction details.

"There's some more stuff," Trevor hesitantly said, feeling the cold glare of the men across from him. "There's a couple of problems with your 'bottomless pits', should work those out before working on your storage units above them. Uh, we've run into a few setbacks with that whole laser hallway thing, some lasers that aren't shooting, stuff like that. Should be able to get it under control by next week."

Saddler sighed. "Will that be all for now, Trevor?"

"One last thing, then I'm out of your hair for now," he said. "It says here you wanted to change your mind about that giant-ass frigging mechanized statue of Mr. Salazar."

"That's correct," Salazar said.

"Well, there's kind of a problem with that," Trevor sheepishly said. "We've already started construction on that. I tried to warn you before we started, but there was just no way to talk Mr. Salazar out of it."

Saddler shot Salazar an angry look as Trevor continued unnecessarily.

"I was all like, 'this will literally cost you millions of dollars to build', and he was all like, 'bitch, I did not ask you how much it would cost, I asked you to build it'. Well, not his exact words, but that was the gist of things. Actually, I have some good news. Me and the boys finally figured out just what the exact specifications of your robot will be, Mr. Salazar!"

Salazar was noticeably embarrassed, and Saddler bitterly mumbled 'spare me'.

"Okay, the total estimated cost will be about twelve and a half million US dollars..."

Saddler slammed his fist against the table, glaring at the man who ordered the construction. Mendez sat quietly, finding the whole situation rather awkward.

"It doesn't look like this thing will be able to move around too much without causing substantial damage to the castle," Trevor continued, "and virtually no bridge can hold the weight of it. I don't mean to judge you, but this really did not look like a good investment."

Saddler was furious at this point. He snapped his fingers and from seemingly nowhere, two of his mindless servants grabbed Trevor from his chair, and roughly escorted him to the exit. He had to run across the rising drawbridge to avoid drowning in the moat. A few of his supervisors stood waiting for him at the other side.

"So did you tell them about the robot statue thing?" One of the yellow hardhat wearing men asked.

"Yeah, they're paying us almost thirteen million for it." High fives were given all around.

"So does this mean we should have our guys start hauling in the bags of cement up from the docks?" Another supervisor asked.

"Hell no, let's just stuff it with old newspapers or something. I mean, it's not like they'll ever end it using it."


End file.
